50 prompts
by make-mine-a-kiaora
Summary: This is based on the 50 prompts provided by Tromana on Paint-it-red. It was all meant to be oneshots but it turned into a mix of these and a separate story. I have now taken out the separate story and saved it as 50 prompts- beyond world's end. My apologies that this messes up the order of the reviews. Comments and reviews always welcome.
1. Chapter 1

_With thanks to Tromana for providing the list of 50 prompts on the Paint-it-red forum._

_Chapters may not follow the order of reviews since a separate, scattered story has been excised from this series of one shots._

_Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made._

_Ch1 is rated K - fluff_

**1. I love you**

"Please, Gracie, pretty pretty please."

Van Pelt turns to glare over her shoulder at the man attempting to tap dance behind her.

"No, why should I?"

"I'll owe you Grace. You know I will. I don't get all this googling and stuff."

She does her best to pull on her strict schoolmam expression, hoping not to give into the smile which is threatening her composure. Damn, the man can be so cute.

"You're good at this Grace. The best. That's why I need you to do it for me."

Mmm, like the man can't find the information himself. She knows she's being taken for a ride, but what the hell. It's for the boss really. Jane wants to arrange a surprise for her, to celebrate their first month as a couple, and for some reason wants van Pelt to be in on springing it.

"Eureka. Does this look secluded enough for you?"

Jane leans over to peruse the site, complete with $750 a night guest suites, and then straightens with a grin. "Perfect. So to reserve….."

She helps him book the luxury suite for next weekend.

"So," Jane starts, "the hotel is sorted. Now I need a favour."

Van Pelt sighs heavily. Here we go, she thinks.

"I'd like you to find the nearest spa – I'll pay – and arrange a booking for you and Lisbon. I'll talk her into it. Then, instead of driving direct to the spa, you take a detour to the hotel, where I'll meet you. Lisbon stays with me. You go off to the spa and have a friend meet you there."

Grace thinks for a few moments. That's not a bad deal for her, and should be a pleasant surprise for the boss. It's good to see her and Jane finally together and van Pelt will do anything she can to encourage that.

"OK. As long as that's all."

Jane grabs her hand, pulling her to her feel and twirling her round.

"Van Pelt, I love you. Let me have your babies!"

WHAT!

"You'd best not let Rigsby hear that, or Lisbon."

"Meh. Friendship is a kind of love. We're friends, right. I didn't say I _love_ love you!"

He ambles off grizzling away to himself, before turning back as he drops onto the couch.

"Thank you, van Pelt." He smiles his little boy smile and she returns it despite herself.

If Jane and Lisbon ever have children, she wonders how the world will cope.


	2. Chapter 2

**2. I hate you**

**(Rated T for language and subject matter)**

_Disclaimer: not mine and no money made from fanfiction_

Ray Haffner, aka Red John, stirred in his hospital bed. The medically induced coma that he'd been in since surgery to remove three bullets – one from the left side of his abdomen, the second from a site a little lower and the third through his right bicep – was wearing off.

With a sigh, Jane noted the page of the book he was reading before standing and shuffling over to the bed side. "Ah, on the way back to us then, are you?"

Ray blinked a few times as his vision cleared, allowing Jane's face to come into view. Jane held his gaze, keeping his features impassive.

"How you feeling?" Jane tilted his head a little as he regarded the bedridden man with a clinical interest. Haffner fixed his eyes on the ceiling in front of him. Blank. Unresponsive. "It's gotta hurt, right?"

Haffner refused to be drawn, but Jane could read his responses easily in the blip of the ECG and the tension in the injured man's shoulders as he fought to regulate his breathing.

"You know, if you'd only made an enemy out of me… I just wanted you dead. But what you did to everyone else – to Rigsby and to Lisbon – not to mention the whole O'Laughlin business a few years back - you got Cho mad. And not only is he a sadistic bastard when you rile him up, he's also a crack shot. One of the best snipers that Special Forces ever had. And definitely the best in the CBI.

Mmm. Someone didn't do his research well enough, did you?

That said, the authorities have been through it all. Seems like, with the angle he had and my body in the way, he took the only shots possible. Even for him. So serendipity really. Or karma. I'm very glad he didn't get me by mistake."

"What happened?" The question ghosted from Haffner's lips before he could stop it.

"Ah. Now let me see. Do you want the short version, or the long version? Or the short, short version? I know. "

Jane perches on the edge of Haffner's bed, noting with satisfaction the tremor that runs through him.

"Oh please, you think I'm going to hurt you? You've enough to be going on with for now, I reckon." His smile takes on a gloating edge. "Too bad you'll never have children now. Or any ejaculatory or excretory control."

He watches the horror burst onto Haffner's face. "Yep, doubly incontinent. You'll need bags strapped to your stomach for the rest of your days. And as for your manhood, let's just say that there's not enough left to worry about. Castration by cop."

"You bastard."

"Me? Oh, I know.

Still, where were we? Oh, yeah. You wanted to know what happened.

You don't deserve the long form. Just let's say, we were waiting for you to make your move. I was 78% certain that it was you. And we'd figured it'd be against Lisbon, which is why one of us was always with her.

So you came for her at night, whilst she was sleeping, and Rigsby was on guard in her living room. You and 3 of your cronies. Two of whom died at the scene and the other of whom cut Rigsby down, collapsing from new injuries shortly after. In the meantime, you had crept upstairs and subdued Teresa with an injection of some fast-acting sedative. Smart. Not before she pulled a gun on you, but you'd thought ahead. It wasn't her service weapon. She always leaves that near the front door. But her standby Glock that no-one is supposed to know about. Strangely, it had been decommissioned, with the firing pin bent.

What you didn't know, though, was that van Pelt and I were on standby, half a block over, with listening devices, and we were on scene immediately. Van Pelt patched up Rigsby and your "friend" and got the ambulance. Cho was already there camped out in the shrubs near Lisbon's parking space, with a bead on both her living room and the bedroom. I ran upstairs, listened for a moment as you were taunting Lisbon – she had come round to find herself handcuffed to the bed – and then interrupted you both. When you lunged for me with the knife, Cho took you down. I freed Lisbon and she took it from there.

Also something you missed – master of creative surveillance though you claim to be- is that we'd put hidden cameras up in Lisbon's home earlier in the week. So it's all on tape. Though I gotta say, getting her to agree to play the helpless damsel took all the powers of persuasion that I could muster. We knew you'd have to torment both her and me before you killed her.

Add to that, your "friend" has been extremely helpful. So much that we can offer him leniency, despite his attempted murder of a State Agent. Rigsby will recover."

"You may think I'm Red John but you can't prove it."

"I'm sorry. Didn't I mention… Your compatriate gave us the information we needed. You've been out for a few days so Cho's back on duty, post shrink time, and so are Lisbon and van Pelt. I offered to watch over you. Make sure no-one slipped you any of those effective little pills you give your cronies.

So. We know about your hold over Bertram. He's actually relieved that it's in the open now. And he's helping us with the case. Against you, Brett Patridge and Brett Stiles.

And your base of operations? An isolated farmhouse two miles north of a delightful little winery. Shand Creek, if I recall. The forensics guys are picking over it as we speak. Van Pelt is with them."

Haffner's good hand fisted in the sheets and he fought to lever himself up but fell back against the pillows with a cry of pain. The anger in his face intensified as he spat at Jane, who dodged it easily.

"You think you're such a clever son-of-a-bitch. You are nothing. You hear me. Nothing."

Jane watches quietly, his eyes flat and hard.

"Good to meet you, you murderous psychopath."

"Remember why your wife and daughter died, you worm? It was your fault. Yours."

"I know. I've always known."

"And I gave you every chance. Every opportunity. To follow the higher path."

"Indeed. Why did you bother?"

"Your wife was beautiful, wasn't she? And your little girl."

"Yes. I thought you'd start on that. It wasn't me who held the knife. And there's one thing to be said for losing everything. Nothing that you can do or say is going to hurt me more than I've hurt myself. Or tell me anything new."

"I hate you."

"Fair enough. I don't hate you though. Not anymore. It would be a waste of my time and my energy and you deserve neither.

I do pity you though. You sad and worthless little man.

Now. Isn't it a wonderful day to be alive? I could almost go and jerk off in the men's room. You remember that kind of release?

And I'm going to walk out of here and go back to the team, they're my family now, and the woman I've grown to love.

And Cho will be here in a moment. To take over from me. I'm sure that he'll take good care of you."

Jane walks over to the machine hooked to the IV line and dials down the painkillers. He plasters on his best TV smile as he walks to the door.

"Goodbye Ray. I may come to watch when they administer the death penalty. But, then again, I may not. My sock drawer may need straightening."

Turning back for one last glance, Jane deals his parting shot. "Oh, I don't think I mentioned. The second bullet, the one in your guts, lodged in your spine. The damage is permanent.

Have a good day!"

Jane breezes out of the room, leaving Haffner alone with his thoughts. Lisbon and Cho are waiting. Lisbon is already beginning to splutter, "Jane, how could you…"

"Relax, Lisbon. I didn't lay a finger on him. It's all on tape. Somebody had to break the news."


	3. Chapter 3

**4. Go away**

_Disclaimer: I own no rights to the Mentalist and make no money from fanfiction_

_This is an episode tag to 5x01 The CrimsonTicket/The Red Glass Bead and contains spoilers for that ep._

_Rated T_

It's late. The guys have all gone home for the night. I sit at my desk staring at the paperwork which is already proliferating like a cancer. How could I have forgotten this? Jane has been back a few short hours and already the complaints are coming in thick and fast. That man… No limits. No boundaries. And the common sense of a disruptive toddler.

No need to guess where he is now. Down in the cells watching over his "lover" if the guards are daft enough to let him. Or skulking up in his attic. She's pretty, I guess, and young. I suppose I can see that much. And they had sex. A "relationship", he called it. I mean, I've always known Jane was an attractive man – at least physically - and magnetic, with his glib charm – so it's not surprising he'd lure her in.

And he must be so happy now. Finding out that the parts still work. After so long, they might have shrivelled. No wonder they have a "relationship". The only thing I don't understand is how he got out of her bed long enough to even try to trap Red John.

"Love you." My imagination helpfully reminds me of the last time he was in this office. Shooting a gun at me and carrying my "corpse" out of the building. Hah. Well it's clear how much that meant, isn't it? No wonder he "forgot". Wasn't worthy of even a small crevice in the vaulted memory palace.

I wish I had the same facility. That I could scrub away the feel of his arms as he cradled me to his chest, his thrumming heart and the warmth he exuded. And that wonderful scent – part homely and welcoming, part electrifying. Despite being sweaty and greasy and unkempt at the time. Damn. The man has so many gifts. He even smells good. Is it too much to ask…

I drag myself to my feet, feeling the pull of muscles stiffened from tension and my rigid posture for so long. Nothing can shake my marrow-deep exhaustion or the burning hole where my heart used to be. My pulse throbs in my temple, sending waves of pain above my right eye.

At least I know my place now.

Senior Special Agent Teresa Lisbon. Successful detective and team leader.

A sucker. A mark. A pawn.

How could I have been so blind?

_3 hours later_

My office is dim, lit just by my desklight and the screen of my laptop. The couch looks inviting and I almost turn to sink into it. But then the team would find me in the morning. Like they did too often in the last six months, and they would worry. I'm neither doing that to them nor giving him the satisfaction of seeing how undone I am.

Opening my office door, I make my way into the bullpen. Security have done their rounds and kindly left 2 of the spotlights on so that the path is clearly visible. The effect is soothing.

Coffee. If I'm going to get any further tonight then I need caffeine. It's 1.50am and part of me wonders why I'm even bothering. I quickly silence the other part that tells me I know.

The kitchen area is in darkness and I reach for the switch, thoroughly familiar with its location after all this time. As the fluorescent tubes crackle into life, I shield my eyes against the forthcoming brightness. Only as I open them again do I see the shape at the corner table. Blond curls, grey 3-piece suit, blue china teacup. And he's watching me.

I rock backwards as the shock hits. Hallucination? It must be. Protracted lack of sleep and low blood sugar. I do need to rest on the couch for a while. And then drive home. As I figure this out, I'm already moving. Hurrying. Away from the kitchen and from _him_, back to my office. I can lock the door and then jam it with my desk or something.

"Lisbon. Lisbon, wait." He calls to me. Funny, I've seen him lots of places before – in crowds, at the café upstairs – when a second look confirms the mistake. But I don't usually hear his voice.

But this is different. He's on his feet. Following me back to my sanctuary. I have to stop him. And I don't have my gun on me.

"Teresa." At the door to my office, he catches me, grabs my arm. This is real alright. I can feel each of those fingers as he tightens his grip.

"Go away, Jane." I hurl the words at him with as much vitriol as I can muster. I'm beyond mad at him now. Just who does he think he is? "Let go of me, or I'll make you."

He steps back, hands half raised as if in surrender and he looks….hurt. Hurt! What damn right….

"OK, OK Lisbon," he says, "do you really want me to go away again?"

My breath catches in my throat as I remember the last six months. I can't go through that again. I can only hope the horror doesn't show in my face, but I'm not going to beg the son-of-a-bitch either.

"Whatever," I mutter, as I open my office door and grab my bag and gun. I can't stand it here anymore so I'm going home.

Without further acknowledging his presence, I pull my door shut and head off to the elevators. He watches me go. I can feel it.

* * *

Watching Lisbon march out through the bullpen, I can't help but be worried for her. I know my time in Vegas hurt her but I hadn't noticed before how fragile she is now. It's like she's just not bothering to maintain the illusion any more. Senior Special Agent, immune to everyone and everything that life can hand her. And now a slight, skinny semblance of her true self.

Vegas did harm. That much is clear. And I knew it would. It was bound to. Just not this bad. It's not like I wanted to hurt her. I was just so focussed on the plan. I've always been honest with her that I would do anything to catch Red John. She should know that by now. It's not personal. Or at least not personal between her and me. Not a personal attack, affront.

She needs sleep. And badly. She was one level above sleepwalking earlier. I worry about her behind the wheel of her car but at least she's angry now. That should sustain her for long enough. I wonder whether to follow her. Camp outside her apartment and check that her vehicle is there. But I decide against it. She should be OK and I need to think. After so much solitude for the last 6 months, being around people so much is draining. Especially when the air is as thick with anger and disapproval as the oppressive stillness that you get before a good thunderstorm. The team hate me. They're only putting up with me under sufferance. And as for Lisbon…

I have a horrible suspicion that Lisbon has fallen in love with me, and I don't know what I can do about it. To say that it's a bad idea is blindingly obvious. Or that I'm totally unworthy. But it's the only explanation that seems to fit. When I met her in the church, she was OK. Mad, indignant and outraged, but OK. The real trouble was after that. Partly after my unfortunate slip in her office. Though she didn't push me on it when I evaded answering her in the warehouse. But mainly, Lorelei. The old "we were lovers, him and me" bit. Hell, this is even worse than I thought.

My priorities are clear. Crack Lorelei and take down Red John. If Lorelei is helpful, and if she doesn't end up dying in custody as I expect her to, in line with all his other minions, I will help her to find a new life. But that will be all. Not a life with me in it. And I can do nothing till Red John is dead. I can't avenge my wife and child and put them to rest. And I can't move on with any kind of future. I certainly can't love again. Look at Krystina Frye. And now he wants Lisbon's head. And there's no way I could stand it if he took her.

Therefore I keep my distance. From Lisbon and the team. And I dedicate myself to the hunt with everything I have in me.

For all the situation isn't great, it is good to be back here with the team and the little pocket rocket. And who knows. Maybe another day, or two days, and Lorelei will crack. And give me what I really need from her. We will have Red John.

If Lisbon isn't using her office, maybe it's time to get re-acquainted with her couch.

Snuggling down, after pulling the throw from the cupboard, I'm shocked to notice that the couch and throw both smell of Lisbon. Cinammon, coffee and the hint of her shampoo. It looks like she's spent a few nights here herself.

Throwing off the cover and retreating into the bullpen I head for my second couch. I cannot sleep surrounded by the smell of Lisbon. That will do no good for my resolve at all.

I don't regret doing Lorelei as part of the con. Whilst we both went through the motions, it was barely even sex. Two accomplished manipulators coming together momentarily for the sake of the dance. It was cold and empty. What was more of a problem was what it made me do. It was soon clear that biofeedback wasn't enough for me to perform adequately so I broke open that mental room that I've always kept carefully sealed. The fantasies that I never allowed myself to indulge. Of Lisbon. And of Teresa and I together. And that door's not for closing now. I slammed it but the catch no longer works.

What my time with Lorelei did do was to re-awaken my sexuality. My body craves the release and I find myself noticing all the beautiful women around me. But one especially. My dear Lisbon. And I want to be with her so badly. We've been close for many years now, as friends, and often quite close to the edge of becoming lovers. When I was dead inside, that was fine. Now it's a lot more difficult to be content with not crossing that line. Not when I fantasize about making love with her. Experiencing not only the physical climax but also mental, emotional and sensual fulfilment in her arms. I want to feel her hands on me. And her lips. I want to love and to be loved.

It was a very clever move of Red John to send me his queen. If I didn't go through with my initiation into his cult, but made it back to Sacramento, there's a 75% chance, at least, that Lisbon will not forgive me and that he will have damaged the most important relationship in my life and disrupted the place which is now my home. That's still a likely outcome. Another alternative is that the emotions between Lisbon and I erupt and then anything could happen. I will do all I can not to get into an outright fight with her. There's too much chance that it would culminate in us both losing it and a frantic fuck against the nearest surface. Then she really would hate me.

Pressing the heel of my hand firmly against my lower abdomen, I try to discourage my cock from its upward trajectory. The images flashing through my mind aren't helping. Pinning Teresa to her office wall, pushing her into the couch whilst she writhes beneath me, face flushed with passion. I really must get a grip, in more ways than one.

Two hours later, I give up all attempts at sleep and make my way down to the Citroen. I'm going to drive past Lisbon's and check she got back OK. That her SUV is there. And then off to Marie's for breakfast.

The sun is beginning to rise, bring with it the hope of a new day. Maybe this will be the one that changes everything. I hope and fear it in equal measure.


End file.
